Let My Life Finally Begin!
by Random Dude At Your Service
Summary: Max is abused by her famous parents. She cannot escape their clutches. But when 'good' news comes, her life is turned around and she is free. But what will she do, now that she is alone? Is she? This was a serious story, but not quite. FAX, T, and Human!


**Hello, Earthlings! First things first: You do **_**not **_**know how difficult it was to put up this new story. Really. It was **_**hard. **_

**Iggy: That's what she said.**

**Me: Shut up, maniac.**

**Back to point. My internet is super duper slow, and i have tried to edit this document 300 times. No kidding. And i forgot to do the lines, blah blah blah. Argh. I am so frustrated right now. You all owe me lots and lots of reviews! :D **

**Anyway, I just wanted to tell you guys that, sadly, WYDKWKY (pretty long acronym, eh?) hasn't turned out as good as I originally wanted. I write better when it is serious, school related kind of stuff, if you know what I mean. **

**That is why I am here right now! With a new story!**

**This chapter was evidently much easier to write for me, so I hope you like it. **

**While I'm here, I just wanted to say thank you so much to all the people who read, reviewed, and alerted me and WYDKWKY. I really appreciate it!**

**Especially to Velevet Night. Thank you so much for your constructive criticism and time. I think this story will turn out a tiny bit better! **

**BUT! I am not giving up on WYDKWKY. I really want you guys to review and tell me if you want me to carry on, and just focus on this story. If you guys want, I can put up a poll. Should I delete that story, try to fix it up, focus on this story, blah blah blah. Anything! Tell me in a review, or PM me to tell me or ask for a poll. **

**So. Sorry for this ultra long A/N. I'm sorry to say, there is more. **

***in a deep, talk-show-host-dramatic kind of way* DIIIIISCLAIMER!: Next up is Random Dude, who, sadly, does not own anything related to MR. *holds earpiece* Oh, wait. She will not be able to perform, due to her shame. Although she has given us a very long chapter. **

**ENJOY!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Hallelujah! <strong>

Max POV

Today was turning out exactly as I expected.

_- Flashback- _

_I huddle in the corner, awaiting my fate. All I had done was put a little too much salt into the soup. I am no Master Chef! I'm only 9 years old. But I feel much, much older._

"_Maximum! Book after book of cooking novels. And what have you learnt? Nothing! Absolutely nothing," my mother said in disgust, still dropping and cracking all the bowls onto the polished tiles. The ones that I need to scrub again after this._

_I waited expectantly for the beatings. I used to retaliate with my own weak punches, but now I know that there is no use. I cannot beat this monster. Not to mention her equally as fierce companion, which I am forced to call – my ruthless Father._

_- End flashback - _

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><p>I snap myself out of my day mare. This is not the time to silently wish it were all a dream. But dreams cannot last 18 years. They always end, either with you sweating and hyperventilating or smiling and sighing. Either it's happy, or it's a nightmare. In my case, it's the latter.<p>

"Max! We're going to the office now. Your chores for today are still all the same. Except you must do them better than you did before. I have a party tonight. And, of course, I need you to leave before that. Go wherever you like, just not in my sight."

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><p>Let's get it all straight for you, late comer. This must seem like a typical Cinderella story… but it's not. Cinderella didn't go to a high school funded by none other than herself. Cindy didn't secretly dance behind closed doors. Neither did she have a dead sister, who had committed suicide because of her foster parents.<p>

Oh, wait, I don't think I can call them that. The definition of foster: involved in the bringing up of a child not one's own. The flaw: they didn't bring me up. Not only did they not pay _one bit_ for all my needs, my parents brought me down. Tormenting me, psychologically and physically torturing my whole being.

What parent, biological or not, would give their children, adopted or not, the choice to stick a knife through themselves? _My _parents, apparently.

The picture of Little Tiffany, still clutching the vegetable knife to her chest, will haunt me forever. Her brown, frizzy curls caressing her face, which had tears streaming down her cheeks slowly. Her breath, whooshing out her mouth. Her whimper. Nothing could make me forget. The sweet little girl who, when _they _were not around, had great amounts of potential. She had always wanted to sing and dance. Ever since she came here.

"Anne and Jeb were so nice at the adoption house. They truly looked like the pop stars they were. But what I didn't know was that they were only about fame and fortune. Not love," I remember her say to me one day, while scrubbing the dishes. We were alone in the mansion, of course. That poor girl reminded me of how I was. Older and more solemn than any adult could be.

She wanted to become a legendary celebrity, exactly like Anne and Jeb. Just different in one way. She was going to be sweet, kind, gentle, loving. Anything that didn't relate to her cause of death – her son of a bitch father and mother. Of course, she wouldn't say that.

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><p>Anyone other than myself realize I was <em>still <em>not finished dreaming? These flashbacks were coming more and more often, which is not good. I need to get to work.

But the thing is: I still feel the rage and despair, burning inside me. It's something I cannot control. And when it bursts out like lava in a volcano… Anne and Jeb won't be happy. Jeb would thrash me.

Hey, but did I mention? I taught myself all the things school could not teach me. Building a bridge and walking over it (decide for yourself if that was metaphorical or not). Toughening one self and not crying. Listening so closely to things that even a cricket couldn't escape my grasp. Not to mention my black belt level of self-defense. **(is that the highest level? Black belt? Correct in a review if wrong!)**

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><p>I quickly gather all the dirty laundry from the bedrooms and stuff them into the washing machines. Light colors in one machine, darker into another… check.<p>

I don't think even the owner of this house is more experienced than me in almost, well, everything. That's the only bright side in this life. When it comes to the time when Anne and Jeb (hereby known as the Pompous Parents aka PP) are old and unknown, I will be living by myself, at ease with no worries whatsoever. I just can't wait for that.

Shit. I should really get my butt into action. Ninja sprinting, I wash the dishes, prepare for tonight's dinner, pack all the living room mess – DVD'S of their own performances (if that doesn't spell **ARROGANT and SELFISH, **what does?), socks, clothing and tissues – and then lastly, I had my breakfast. Two granola/ muesli bars **(I'm not sure which one's which…doesn't really matter, does it?) **with tap water. No. 1 breakfast for growing kids. NOT.

I rush outside and jump into my car. It's actually quite expensive, which means my waitress job wouldn't pay for it. This is the _only _thing that Anne had paid for. But she made it quite clear she had done it for herself.

"I just want you to be able to get away quicker when it comes to the time I don't want to see your ugly face any longer," that Bitch had said.

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><p>Presently, I speed down the road towards my school. I only had about 5 minutes left, and traffic was seriously jammed. Oh, boy.<p>

Dodging the overpopulated streets, I speed down the smaller and quieter house lanes. A lot of people that I recognized from my school were also driving towards Kimberley High. **(all the schools are **_**still **_**made up. This is no exception)** Not that they would notice me. I was pretty much a loner, really.

I park into an excluded area of the school parking lot. After grabbing all my things and locking the car, I sprint towards my home room. Did I mention? The only time people actually notice me is when they see me wearing normal clothes. I repeat: _normal clothes. _Most of the girls wear slutty shirts and skirts which barely cover their cleavage and ass. Huh. That is probably their aim.

And so that is why they keep snickering at me. Even though I can feel the vibe coming off them. The Red Haired Posse is utterly frightened of me. Scarey Cats. Psh. Cowards.

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><p>As I stop myself from dissing them in their face and <em>then <em>beating the crap out of them, I race towards my class. I just make it in time, and seat my butt into my usual seat at the back. People saunter in even later than me. What do they do in the morning? Save the world? Because if I, Maximum Ride, can make it into class _before _the bell, they sure as hell can make it WAY before that.

I sigh aloud. These anger issues I'm having are making me more and more hostile, if possible. I really need to get away from my so called parents.

Maybe, now that I'm more grown up and confident, I would really be able to call kids help line or run away. Yes, viewers of this tragic story. It's not like I haven't thought of that before. I've thought of everything I could do to escape the clutches of my parents.

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><p>Don't you get it? They are the ultimate super stars right now. Jeb Batchelder, famous actor and former band member. Married to Anne Batchelder, singersong writer and actress. They are like the older version of… Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez, if you like. **(Ha-ha, I know I just made some of you stare daggers at the screen…but please still stick with me :D) **If I were to just leave…they would be crying in an interview on national television, begging for people to find me. They _are _actors for Pete's Sake. And when they do, and they _will_, Jeb would substitute me as his punch bag. Yeah, you get the picture.

"Maximum Ride?" Ms. Marie was marking the role, not bothering to look up.

"Here."

People instinctively turned to look at the weird girl, aka me. Oh, please, look at yourself in the mirror, weirdoes.

"Mind your own business, ass holes." That can only be one person.

"Hey, Ells." I say nonchalantly to the girl seated behind me.

"Hi Max. Did you remember your sports gear today?" she said coolly, equally as carefree.

Ella Martinez, along with her two loving brothers, Ari and Zephyr, are the only other people who know about my abusive _family, _if I can call them that. They are more like arch enemies, and I am the prisoner.

"When did I ever forget it?" I reply to her question towards my sports uniform.

"I guess. I think I heard coach say we're doing soccer and/or track this semester."

I couldn't help it. "YES!" People turned to stare at me, some even shooting me the bird just for the fun of it.

What a great year I am going to have…

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><p><span>FANG POV! <span>

"Come on, dude. This year is totally gonna _rock_. Did you just see that chick? She was smokin'."

"No, Iggy. More like she was _naked."_

Iggy shakes his head, causing his strawberry blond hair to fall into his startling blue eyes. He flicks them away. "Dude, are you even a man? Guys love girls who aren't scared to show what they got. Well, at least most of them. Not you, apparently." He pauses. "Whatever, Fang. I was kidding. But you can spend this year alone."

"Good," Is all I say. No point in saying more than you need to is my silent motto.

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><p>I split up from Iggy and head towards my home room. Even though I'm new, my mom made sure the secretary had shown me through the whole school. And I mean the <em>entire <em>school…

"Sorry I'm late, Ms.," I look down at the timetable in my hand, "Marie."

She looked up with no hint of a smile. OK, then. "You must be Nick. Please take a seat and do not be late ever again," she said with a slight accent I could not quite put my finger on. French? Spanish? Greek? American? All of the above? Whatever.

"You can call me Fang, Ms. Marie," I say politely.

She stares at me. "Go take a seat, _Nick_," she barks, putting an emphasis to her preferred name for me. Well okay, lady.

I look around the room to see everyone looking at me, either angrily (the guys) or dreamily (the girls). If I do say so myself… gross.

Except for one girl. She's the only one that is actually still looking down at her book or something. Her brown hair, with blonde streaks, is tied into a messy ponytail. She's wearing a blue tee, with jeans and a jacket. Her feet are covered by black converse. Everything about her is something you would not see from a high school girl. She's probably the only person in here that won't harass me for some random reason.

I sit in the seat beside her. She doesn't look up.

"Hey, I'm Fan-"

She doesn't lift her head when she says, "I heard you."

Right. I decide to drop it.

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><p>When the bell rings, I head towards the door. Hell, did I not know it would be blocked by a barricade of people.<p>

"Hey, man. Come join us at lunch. We might need a strong player like you."

"Fangy! Is that you?" I know for certain that I don't know that girl. Nor do I think 'Fangy' is a reasonable nickname for me.

I hear a sigh coming from behind me. With that voice also comes a soft murmur of 'move it, bastard!' Feisty.

I see the girl, Max I think (I saw it on her book), pushing through the crowd karate style. I would explain to you what I mean by karate style, but it's pretty difficult. All I can say is: I am impressed.

When she reached the door, she literally pushed off the wall and flipped over the heads of the tall football guys. Frankly, I was the only one who noticed her. That is just sad.

"That was amazing!" I say. I did not gush about it. I'm Fang.

She looked at me through the corner of her eye. "I'm pretty fit."

I frown. No one can be that good but not be noticed. "How? Training?"

She chuckles rather sadly. "Not exactly."

I suddenly realize that we are heading towards the gymnasium and field.

"Meet you on the field," Max says, then sprints so fast towards the girls' change room, she's almost a blur. It was actually like a flying bird; seriously inhuman.

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><p><span>Max POV <span>

**(Sorry I'm going back and forth. I just had an idea and I think it is better if Max is speaking.)**

"For the first half of this semester, we will be doing track training. Then it will be soccer," Coach Marshal explains. He's a big guy, but he never fails to make me happy. Maybe it's the fact that he likes me. A lot. What can I say, sporty people like sporty people best.

I cheer under my breath. I love running, and I have plenty of endurance _and _speed. Running around inside the mansion, then jogging around the neighborhood makes you fit.

Soccer is so fun. I used to play with Tiff, and I had learnt some pretty epic skills from the DVD's we would find. How I miss those days.

* * *

><p>"We will be timing. On you marks, get set, GO!"<p>

I run alongside Ella, Ari and Gazzy. Akila, who is also my loving buddy, is in junior year. The seniors and juniors don't see each other much, which is sad.

Slowly, however, I speed past them. And then every other girl. Then the goofy guys. Then I reach the jocks, or heartbreakers. Dylan, Sam, Holden and Ratchet. They were laughing and pushing, seeming like innocent little guys. I knew better. If I weren't as fit and strong as I was, they would be picking on me 24/7.

I silently creep past them, now reaching the tip of the line. There are only three people there. I know that one of them _must _be Rudolph. He wasn't really liked by people, because he had crashed a golf cart into a tree once, hurting the popular Nicole. She had left the city after that. In _my _opinion, it's pretty harsh that people treat him so badly because of an accident. He's actually a sweet guy.

Anyway, the dudes beside him? I see Fang, the kind of emo guy who had spoken to me earlier. That was rare. But who is his friend? He looked new too.

I easily ran up to them. "Who's this?" I say, jerking my head towards the blonde guy. He was tall and muscled, but not as much as Fang.

"Firstly, you're really good at running, Max. Secondly, he's Iggy."

The newly introduced Iggy held out his hand for me to shake. I do, but only for a second. Who knows where those hands have been?

"Hey. Max, huh? As Fangles here said, you're pretty good at running," Iggy says, feigning a look of hurt and fear as Fang glares at him. "What? You used to love that nickname!"

I smirk, but I can't bring myself to outright laugh. Don't get me wrong, smirking is an improvement on my part. But the idea of still going back to the prison hole; it never leaves me during the day. I always remember that, after all the work and fun, I will have to return back to Anna and Jeb. No matter how much I loathe it.

"Max? You okay?" Fang asks with a look of concern in his eyes, voice and face.

Talking about faces… Iggy made a surprised one. "Wow. FANG! You really showed emotion! Towards someone other than your mirror! Congratulations, really. Well done."

I frowned. What a weird friend Fang has.

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><p>"Race ya to the end! And no shoving," I say to only Fang and Iggy, as Rudolph had decided to take it slow a few laps ago.<p>

"But we still have ten freaking laps!"

I have found out that Iggy is a serious whiny baby.

Both Fang and I roll our eyes. His onyx ones with my chocolate brown ones.

"That's creepy, dudes."

"Do you really want me to roll my eyes again? _Really?"_

He puts his hands surrender. "Calm yourself, Max. Fine. Let's race."

It's on.

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><p>After about 5 laps, Iggy puffs towards me. "OK. I'm stuffed. I call myself out."<p>

Only me and you now, Fang.

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><p>1 lap. And I let him overtake me. He's ahead of me, but I am not going to keep it that way.<p>

I sprint up to him, and come up with a plan. This might work, and it might not.

I zigzag behind him, and he turns around to look at me. What he didn't realize was that it was the finish line. I hurtled above him, somersaulting towards the line and landing on my ass. Meh. It was worth the bruise I have on my butt now.

But something happened that made me happier than the look on Fang's face; surprised but then kind of disappointed. Happier than winning.

Come on, people. You can guess what happened. I'm playing mini CSI with you. So many clues. The things I absolutely _hate. _

No? OK, then. Let me just tell you the happy sequence of events.

I was telling my winning time to Coach Marshal, who said he wasn't surprised I won. Then I aggravated a Fang. No biggy.

But when I was walking back to my locker room, chatting with Ella and telling Ari and Gaz all about my technique, which I have now named: the tumblr, the friendly secretary ran up to me.

"Oh, my, Max. I have bad news."

There is never bad _news_ in my life. Everything is already bad.

"Your parents were just in a crash on the M3 highway. EMT's didn't find any live bodies."

I felt a pang of emotion.

What? I am not lying! I was pretty sad. I was!

…OK. I'm lying.

Call me heartless, but it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping up and down in the air, cheering 'HALLELUJAH!' all the way through. But I knew I had to act sane.

"What do I do?"

While she comforted me, I couldn't help but, through my fake tears (I should _really _become an actress, no?) look up towards Fang. He looked at me, and I knew straight away that he knew I was acting. He had seen right threw my cover. I don't know why I trusted him, but I told him anyway,

"I'll tell you later."

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><p><strong>OK, people. So remember, review and tell me what you want me to do. Focus on this story? Discontinue the other one? Fix it up? So many things…I'm not even going to list them. Just freaking review and tell me! or PM.<strong>

**Wow, I am being repetitive.**

**Once again, thank you so much to the people who reviewed. I was amazed, because I knew my chapters weren't that good. :/**

**THANK YOU'S TO VELEVET NIGHT! I appreciate your time, and your long reviews! (:**

**So I hope the above chapter was satisfying. I just wanted to say, today isn't really my day, so it might not have made sense sometimes. NO FLAMERS PLEASE!**

**In relation to the story, I want to pray for all the people out there who are abused. Animals and humans all around the world, be safe. **

**X Random Dude**

**PS: School is becoming hectic, so I'll try my best to update. :/**

_**To review this chapter, click the link below.**_


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